The Waves were Lovely
by Artemis Fenir
Summary: Captain Arthur Kirkland wasn't always a merciful pirate, but one stormy night when he finds a blond haired boy on the rocks, he just can't help himself... Bumped the rating up to M for Pirate Potty Mouth! CH. 10 is the finished product, proceed there first if you wish to read the whole thing in one go. Epilogue also up :3
1. Chapter 1

_The waves were lovey, dark and deep…_

Captain Arthur Kirkland shook his head in disappointment. That wasn't how the line went…And yet, it fit perfectly with the stormy night he was experiencing on his ship, The Boiling Teapot. It was day three in this horrid storm, and he wasn't sure how much longer his supplies would last. If he was still on the right course, he should be docking in Paradise Cove in just a few days. However, if he wasn't on course…

The bushy-browed man shook his head once more, dislodging that frightful thought.

He stood up and stretched his lean body, rubbing his eyes as he did so. He needed to check on deck, needed to see how bad the storm had gotten. He moved from his cabin to the deck, his strides masculine yet graceful, his face a mask of authority. As soon as he stepped outside, he was assaulted by the cold, harsh rain.

This is what he loved most about the sea. He craved the rain soaking his corn-colored locks, closing his emerald eyes and tipping his head up to let the rain slide down his face. He loved to feel the waves loll his boat back and forth, like a mother rocking her child. Yes, he was a child of the sea; the salt was in his blood and the sunshine on his skin.

"Oui, Angleterre! There is something out there!" The voice of his first mate, Francis Bonnefoy, rang in his ear. "Look, look, you blind man! Do you see it?"

Captain Kirkland grinded his teeth "Shut it, you bloody frog! I just got out here!" However, as they exchanged biting barbs, the Englishman stood beside the Frenchman now, taking the offered spying glass to see what his mate was pointing out. At first, he saw nothing but foamy tips and jagged rocks, nothing at all.

_That bloody idiot, he must be drunk…wait a minute, what is that? _He finally found what the man was talking about. On one of the rocks, there a young man (or perhaps a boy?) stranded. He could only see the top half of the lad, but he could tell the poor soul needed help. Even if he was a pirate, he was not completely heartless.

"Francis! Steer us to him, no man could survive on those rocks, much less in a storm such as this."

"Oui, mon captain. You're not such a heartless bastard, after all. Now, if we may discuss me taking some time off after we dock…?" The blond Frenchman wagged his eyebrows lewdly at the captain.

The captain snarled. "No, you blooming frog, you CANNOT have some time off! We're docking, supplying, and then LEAVING."

"Ah, but mon cheri, what of the boy? Surely, we cannot just leave him in a town with nothing, oui?"

Arthur lowered the spying glass, staring off into the sea. "Yes, what of the boy…?" He thought long and hard, knowing his decision could affect the rest of the boy's life, and there was no way he could live with such guilt if the boy failed from the start. "We'll…We will keep him with us, until we either find his home town or, if he wishes to, remain with us. We'll give the lad a choice."

He could feel his first mate's eyes on him, staring and wondering and thinking. This wasn't the first person he and his crew had rescued, but even the Frenchman could tell…there was something weird about this boy on the rocks - this boy, in the middle of nowhere, who had already enchanted his way onto the ship. Where did he come from?

He had no more time to think as the ship crept up onto the rocks. He watched as his crew did what they could to bring the unconscious boy up to the ship's deck. His men heaved and his men hoed, lassoing him like he was a log and pulling him up. The men stepped aside as their captain walked down toward the boy.

The British man looked down at his newest rescue, his newest charge, so to say. He could see now that he was young, maybe about fourteen or fifteen. He couldn't be quite sure of the color of his hair, but it appeared to be a dirty blond, very dirty blond. He wouldn't be able to tell eye color until the lad woke up. The boy was dressed in a simple white shirt and tan breeches, both torn and ragged from whatever he had been through.

"Take him to my cabin…Change his clothes and attend to any injuries. Put him in my bed, let him rest." Captain Kirkland's voice left no room to argue, no room to give an unwanted opinion. A few of his sturdier men picked the boy up as gently as possible, following their captain's orders.

Francis stood beside him, leaning close to whisper in his captain's ear. "Arthur…"

"Yes, Francis, you do not need to tell me…I don't know why I said take him to my cabin…I have never done that before…"

~4 years later~

Newly-turned 18 year old Alfred F. Jones was walking along the mast again, a favorite past-time of his. He knew Artie would be looking for him soon, but until then, he intended to enjoy the sunshine and salty air to their fullest. Behind his glasses, his bright blue sea eyes scanned the vastness of the ocean. It had been 4 years yesterday since he was pulled from the rocks and aboard The Boiling Teapot. Yesterday was also his birthday, or at least that's what Artie decided. All he could remember when he woke up was his name and his age – nothing else. He didn't really mind all that much, not remembering. For all he knew, he could have been abandoned at sea, left to die, if it wasn't for the courageous Captain Kirkland! Or perhaps, he was a runaway prince, finally being tired of the royal life and escaped but was captured!

Or maybe…he was just a lonely boy, and he would forever be grateful to the blond Brit for giving him a chance.

"Alfred, lad, what have I told you about being up there?" The boy grinned at the shouting. "You bloody brat, you get down here this instant! And I swear, if you decide to 'swing' down here like last time, I'll - "

Arthur never got to finish his sentence, for the boy was already flying down, his hand wrapped in one of the many ropes. He could remember the first few times Alfred had tried this – a broken arm here, a torn muscle there. It never dampened the boy's spirits, though. If anything, it was the driving force for him, made him try again and again until he got it right.

He crossed his arms and scowled at the younger man as he landed in front of him. Whether or not the boy had learned to land gracefully wasn't the point - if he happened to get hurt, there wasn't much that could be done about it. They were doctorless at the moment, their former doctor asking for leave in his homeland of Japan, and the nearest port was several days away. He was fond of the boy and didn't want to see him in any sort of pain.

"Aw, but Artie…I landed, didn't I? And I looked pretty cool doing it!" The boy in front of Arthur grinned that sun-bright smile, and he caved in. Yes, he was fond of the boy – too fond – but it couldn't be helped. He knew he'd congratulate the boy, scold him lightly, and Alfred would be on his merry way.

"Yes, yes, lad…and a damn good landing it was. Do it again and I'll wring your bloody neck, and this time I'm serious!" He scowled for added effect, but to no avail. Alfred kept smiling, he knew he won. If only the boy knew _exactly_ how much he won from Arthur…

A/N: Okay, I'm absolutely stuck on where I want this to go. Hell, I could probably just leave it like this for a short ficlet, but eh… So, I'm hoping for some insightful reviews and suggestions on where this should go! Anything, people…Been a few years since I wrote, so I'm kinda rusty D:


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: So, I've kinda decided what to do with this, but I'm still open to suggestions. I got some really good ones and those helped inspire me to write again :D So, keep reviewing and suggesting, even though I might have a plot, it always help to have a second (or fourth, fifth, sixth…) opinion. Also, I'm going to post this all as I go, and once I have the whole thing written to my satisfaction, I'll reedit it and post it as an one-shot… Yes, I do things strangely, I know XD**

"But Artie, I could help!"

Captain Kirkland looked into those pleading blue eyes, strengthening his resolve in the matter at hand. "No, Alfred, my boy, you can't. I won't allow it, nor will I ever."

"Dammit, Arthur, I'm 18! I'm a man, not a boy!" Alfred looked at the blond captain before him, trying to square his jaw and make the meanest face he could in hopes for his hero, his idol (but he'd never let anyone know that the self-proclaimed hero looked up to someone) seeing him as something other than the 14-year old rescued boy. "I can fight, you taught me how to use a sword and gun, I can strong arm any other man out there! Lemme fight!"

The younger man watched confused as Arthur's face softened, taking on a look of pride and affection he'd never seen on the captain. "Yes, Alfred, you are indeed a man now, and a good one. I want to keep it that way."

"I don't understand – "

"Nor will you, I suppose. Lad, you are … like sunshine." Arthur could feel his voice thicken with emotion, but he didn't care. He could hear his men above deck rallying themselves for an attack, and he knew his first mate was already angling the ship towards their target. He needed to get this out, and quickly. "So pure and happy, untouched by the hand of violence. I want to keep you that way; the battlefield is not for you, Alfred. So please, stay here. I couldn't bear it if you were hurt, or worse…lost that sunshine you always seem to shower me with." He could feel the tears threatening to slip, but he still didn't care. He meant every word of it.

"A-Artie…" Alfred never got to finish his sentence before the man he admired charged from below the deck to the madness that awaited him above. It was hard, knowing that obeying Arthur meant staying put, but he would. All he could do was hope that his captain would come back well, and he knew he would. After all, he was one of the most feared pirates to sail the sea, he's been told.

* * *

Arthur shook the last of the bloodlust from his senses and watched as the offending ship sailed with its crew onboard and several pounds of treasure missing. The captain smirked, no one crossed the path of Captain Kirkland, the most feared pirates of the seas and lived – without giving him their treasure, of course.

The British pirate watched the sun set far off in the horizon, a calm settling over him at the peaceful scene. This was yet another fight he was able to keep Alfred from, but the lad was getting restless. He knew he wouldn't be able to keep the growing boy sheltered under the deck forever.

"Thinking about our poppet, oui?" He heard Frances creep up behind him, readying himself for the same lecture he got each and every time. "You cannot keep him away from this forever, Angleterre. He is now a man, an attractive one at that." Arthur could feel himself growl as he imagined the lewd wag of his first mate's eyebrows.

"Frog, I swear, if you don't back the hell away from me now – "

"You'll what? Gut me where I stand? No, dear, you won't. You would risk letting Alfred know that you _are_ a blood thirsty pirate, instead of the old stuffy gentleman you portray yourself to be."

It was the first time his first mate ever voiced the obvious to him, but it felt that he was just smacked with the realization. That was exactly it, he _didn't_ want Alfred to see that side of him. Ever since that first time Alfred opened his big blue eyes and smiled at the captain, he swore to never let anything steal the boy's inner light, that ability to shine with nothing but a smile on his face.

"Frances… What… What do I do?"

"Oh, Arthur, you know what you must do." The captain stiffened as he heard a sigh. "Either leave him at port or let him do what he desires, to fight alongside you."

Finally, he whipped around to face Frances, his face twisted between rage and confusion. "I cannot possibly do either! That boy belongs on this ship as much as you or I or any member of my crew! He tends to the everyday chores that is required of every man on here, he steers better than you or I, he never complains, and he… he is grateful for being here."

"I know, Angleterre, but … you must know how unfair it is of you to keep him locked up as a pet under the deck." Frances's eyes looked at his captain sadly, almost pitying him. "You have to let him choose, Arthur."

"Frances…"

Before Arthur could even compose himself, think of how to respond to his first mate, he heard a gasp and a rush of air followed by being enveloped in a crushing hug. "Artie! Artie, are you okay? Dude, why are you crying? Are you hurt?" Alfred's voice rang loudly in his ears, catching him off guard.

"What are you prattling on about, lad?"

"You're crying, Artie…"

Sure enough, he could feel Alfred wipe tears from his cheeks. He mentally smacked himself, pirates do not cry over such petty things. Or anything at all. Certainly not over the prospect of sullying the only pure thing he's ever had in his life.

Instead of telling the boy how he really felt, he ruffled the slightly taller blond's hair and forced a smile on. "No worries, my lad, I'm fine. Too much adrenaline for me, I suppose. I apologize for leaving you down there for so long."

"I wouldn't be done there for so long if you'd just let me fight with you! You know I could do it!" The determination on the younger man's face made Arthur's heart soar and sink in a single moment. And, within that single moment, he knew what he had to do.

"Yes, Alfred, I…I know you could." The captain cleared his throat. "Lad, accompany me to my cabin, I…I have something to discuss with you…"


	3. Chapter 3

The wind blew sharply at the huddled boy, a small whimper escaping his lips. How could Arthur do this to him? Didn't Arthur like him anymore? Did he do something wrong? He could never leave the ship, and yet…it was what the Brit wanted. The fresh memory of it all echoed through his head…

"_You can't do this to me, Artie! The Boiling Teapot is all I know!" Alfred fought back tears the best he could. As soon as him and Artie stepped inside his room, the captain had turned cold, wouldn't even face him._

"_Alfred, it's all you know because you've never tried to know more. You could have a family out there, wouldn't you like to know them?" The youth shrinked at the almost metallic sound of Artie's voice. Was this the very same man who showed him warmth when he couldn't even remember who he was?_

"_No, I don't want to know them! Artie, please – "_

"_You have until port to decide, Alfred. To make a life for yourself on port, or…to stay on this ship. I warn you, however, your cheery life as you know it will change if you stay here." At that, Arthur (not Artie)left him all alone, in the room where his first and fondest memory was created._

He thought he had made the captain proud all these years, all the praise and smiles and pats on the back. All the times Arthur would call him 'his lad', or say 'good job, my boy'. Didn't…Didn't Arthur love him? Alfred loved Arthur, loved him so much that sometimes he thought his heart would burst. He…he thought that the captain loved him back, but he was wrong. Maybe this was Arthur's way of ridding himself of the orphaned boy with no past and no future.

Alfred clenched his fists, ignoring his knuckles turning white under the pressure. If that's what his captain wanted, then he would obey that order.

* * *

It had been three days since Arthur had told Alfred of his ultimatum and not once in those three days has Alfred spoken to him. The boy wouldn't even look at him, and if Arthur requested the boy's presence, he would inform another member of the crew to take his place. Good, he thought, it's for his own good. Best the lad be somewhere he can blossom, maybe even…fall in love.

The ache in his heart told him otherwise. It wasn't the best for Alfred, it was the best for _him_. He was falling in love with the boy, had been for years. It's why he shielded him from the harsh realities of being a pirate. His selfishness plagued him day and night, to the point where he was sure that he wouldn't be able to control himself any longer. It was easier when the boy (no, man…) was younger, but now… He had grown up into such a fine looking young man, tall and strong and virile.

Arthur shook his head clean. Port will be in a few days, and he had to keep strong, for himself and for Alfred. A pirate can never love something as bright as Alfred. Especially a pirate such as Captain Kirkland.

**A/N: Yes, I know this is short…What I'm doing is just typing out the bits of the plot that I need to make this story progress. Kinda new thing I'm trying in my typing, and I figured I'll share what I have and see if the finished product is what I (and you readers) desire.**


	4. Chapter 4

The ship lolled back and forth, making the night sky look like it was alive. Alfred looked at the stars he had known his whole life. Would port have stars like these? Would he be able to count them and stare at them and bask in their light at port? He highly doubted, from what he gathered the few times he _did_ leave the ship. The towns were always too bright, too loud, too fast for him to appreciate the twinkling jewels in the sky. He didn't want to leave, he couldn't leave. Alfred balled his fists tightly, remembering bitterly how the captain, _his hero_, wanted him gone and that is why he had to leave.

"Alfred, mon cher, why are you out here all alone?" Flinching and spinning around from being spooked, the bespectacled boy didn't hear Francis walk up behind him. "Dear enfant, Angelterre will skin your hide if you catch a cold."

"I don't care what he thinks!" He shouted at the top of his lungs, not caring who heard him. He just didn't care anymore. There was too much pain, too much _emotion_. Alfred could feel his body tense and shake, anger heating through his veins. "If he doesn't care, why should I?!"

The Frenchman answered him with uncomfortable silence, not answering. The ship continued to loll and rock, ebb and flow. There was only quiet, a heavy and unbearable thing that started to fill Alfred so much he thought he might burst.

"Dear boy, he cares. That is why you are both in such a state."

There was so much being said with so few words. Could it really be possible? Could his wildest dreams really be true?

"Francis…" His voiced wavered between uncertainty and sternness. It couldn't be possible, not with the way Arthur (_Captain Kirkland_, he corrected himself) had been acting.

"Oui, I am serious, dear beau. He loves you so dearly, so purely, that he cannot stand it sometimes. I truly believe that he loved you from the minute you opened your eyes." Alfred opened his mouth to protest, but the ship's first mate bulldozed on. "Can't you see? Would one sully a white shirt with mud? Shame an innocent with ungodly rumors?" The Frenchman's voice suddenly grew thick with raw emotion and strain. "_Would you ruin the most pure thing in your life with bloodshed?_"

Instantly, Alfred understood. The clarity was so blinding, so profound that at first he couldn't wrap his mind around it. Was this why Captain Kirkland (_Arthur_, he corrected himself) kept him locked below, why he cried, why he was sending him to port? The man he loved for years, his hero and savior, loved him back. Heat rushed through his veins again, but it was righteous and wonderful – like the heated wine the young Italian cooks gave him one time.

"Oh…"

And that was the only sound he made as Alfred F. Jones collapsed.

**A/N: Yes, took me forever. I know, I know. However, you can all go thank ****George deValier for inspiring me this lovely morning. Truly an amazing writer, and if my work was just a tenth as good… I'd die very happy.**


	5. Chapter 5

Arthur sat by Alfred's side, by the very same bed he sat by 4 years ago when the boy was unconscious. He brushed a callous hand through golden locks, stared at the peaceful slumbering face. Oh, how his insides twisted and his blood ran cold as Francis brought Alfred to him. He barely heard the Frenchman ramble off about telling the lad the truth as he gathered the boy in his arms and laid him in his bed.

It had been almost 4 days since then, and Alfred had yet to so much as stir. His breathing was slow and soft, his body warm – good signs, Arthur thought. However, he couldn't help but think… think that his lovely ray of sunshine would never wake up.

"Oh Alfred…My love, my lad…" The captain felt hot tears slid down cold cheeks, but he didn't care. He was alone here, in his cabin, with the only one who had ever mattered to him. "I'm so sorry, I should have never… I couldn't keep you here, I couldn't destroy that beautiful soul of yours with… with… with my pirating." Sobs wracked his body now, and he didn't care. "Please, Alfred, please wake up. Smile at me again, look at me with those sky eyes and that stupid annoying grin you use against me." He couldn't bear to look at his face, however. The lifelessness was too much, too _real_, too unnerving.

The pain and tears weighed on him heavily, slowly tugging his head toward Alfred's chest. He gripped the shirt before him with intensity, soaked it as if he cried the entire ocean's content. Would he never hear his laugh again, never watch the boy preform tricks and flips in order to impress him, would he never _ever_ have the chance to tell Alfred he loved him.

"Y'know Artie, I've been told my grin is charming." Arthur felt the chest rumble with laughter, and then a weary hand place itself on top of his head.

Arthur couldn't believe it, wouldn't believe it… But it was true. His beloved boy came back to him. Whipping his head up so fast it almost spun, the pirate looked at Alfred's bright and smiling face. He knew he was grinning, his face feeling as if it could spilt in two at any moment.

"Alfred! Oh, Alfred, my lad, you're okay!"

"Yes, Arthur, I'm fine. Better than fine, now that I know how you feel…" Arthur's eyes widened as the boy leaned in, feeling hot breathe grace his lips. He closed his eyes, anticipating the sensation.

Suddenly, the ship jerked him away from Alfred. His eyes were groggy and his body made of lead as he looked at the still sleeping Alfred.

Reality was indeed a cruel mistress.

A/N: Yea, yea… I coulda made this chapter and last chapter into just one chapter, but hey… I'm stitching it all together when I edit it anyways! One more review 'til I get 15! Exciting! X3 Lucky 15 can ask for a request fic from yooooours truly!


	6. Chapter 6

Arthur paced back and forth – how could this be? They were so close to port, and now it might not even matter. He could hear his men above howling and screeching in fear. From that alone, he knew what was happening.

Captain Anya Braginski's ship _The Sunflower_ was approaching, probably with the intent to plunder.

He quickly glanced at Alfred's sleeping form. Why now, of all times? Why her, of all pirates? Did the sea no longer have any mercy for him? Did Fate no longer care? He could feel it in his bones – he was never going to be able to tell Alfred how sorry he was for all this, and how much he loved him.

There was a crash above, cannon balls probably destroying both ships. There was screaming above, men and women clashing against each other in the pursuit of life and treasure. There were calls out to the captain, to him. There were no more thoughts as Captain Arthur Kirkland grabbed his cutlass and raced above with the rest of his crew. His soul be damned if he went without a fight. He smirked.

_Well, Miss Anya… Let's see who is the more fearsome between us two, shall we?_

* * *

_Parry, thrust, clink_

"Ah, Captain Kirkland, your skills are as the rumors go, da?"

_Thrust, clank, clash_

"The same to you, dear Anya. I dare say, I haven't had as much fun in ages!"

With a sudden lunge, the British captain nicked the Russian captain's side, shredding her blouse and skin. Red seeped into the fabric, bringing attention to it from both sets of eyes. "Oh, first blood… No more fun then, I'm afraid."

Without another word, the larger Russian woman rushed him, her elbow connecting with his jaw. On any other occasion the blow would have been ignored and countered, but with lack of sleeping and eating working against him, Arthur succumbed to it and crashed onto the deck of his ship.

Clearly the victor, Anya gathered the blond man and decided to carry him to his cabin. Yes, she was known to be heartless and ruthless, but she did spare those whom she respected, and there was no doubt that the British captain earned her respect. She smiled sweetly as she heard her crew getting the upper hand, morale faltering for _The Boiling Teapot_'s crew as they watched their captain go down.

She opened the door to his cabin, only to have her eyes fall on Alfred. "Oh, Matvey, I will have the nicest present for you I could ever bring you, da, yes. You will be so happy!"

She scooped up Alfred while laying Arthur down, cradling the blonde boy like a mother would a child. Anya took one last look at Arthur, then Alfred. "I am sorry, dear Kirkland, but whoever this boy is to you, I am sure it is not as important as he is to my Matvey." And with that, she left.

A/N: This is short, but I cranked it out. Life is being mean Q.Q I'll try to have something much longer and maybe more meaty, I promise!


	7. Chapter 7

Alfred sat in bed, bewildered. For the past two hours, he had been staring at his… his _twin_ while he told an almost unbelievable story. Throughout the whole thing, that female Russian pirate (Anya, if he remembers correctly) sat in the corner, hand on the hilt of her sword and eyes trained on Matthew. The pit of the boy's stomach was dropping fast, he missed Arthur. He missed his captain dearly. But, if what the mirror image in front of him was saying was true… all these years, all those memories he tried desperately to remember…

"So, let me see if I follow…" Alfred cleared his throat, watching soft violet eyes sparkle. "We're… we're twins, but we don't look _exactly_ alike…"

"Fraternal twins." The mirror's voice (Matthew, he reminded himself) was soft and shy, and had an accent to it. If he remembered what Arthur taught him about countries, he was pretty sure it was Canadian.

"Hush, Matvey, let him think, da?" It was the first time Alfred heard her speak since introductions, and he was surprised at how gentle she sounded when addressing Matthew, who was now blushing.

"O-Oh, yes, I'm sorry. Not many people know the term, and I'm use to correcting them."

"It is fine, continue, Alfred."

"Right…" He cleared his throat, gathering his thoughts once more. "So, anyway, we're _fraternal _ twins, and our parents divorced and split us up. So, we decided to run away and hopped on a boat, only for a storm to break the boat and wreck us onto different rocks?"

Matthew nodded, smiling slightly. "Right, and Anya picked me up and you…" His face suddenly became very sad, his eyes looking down. "You must have hit your head, since you don't remember anything. At least… at least you were found and taken care of… We searched and searched for you, Al. I… I had started to lose hope…"

Alfred didn't know what was going on, but his body moved of its own accord. The sight of his brother's tears triggered something, a fierce need to protect, and he suddenly enveloped him in a hug. He knew, or at least felt, that he still cared for his brother the second he laid eyes on him. Maybe it is because we're twins, he thought.

"I'm sorry I worried you, Matty. I… I still don't remember, but I promise you, I _do_ believe you." He watched as Anya stood up. He had heard stories about the female Russian, all of them pretty freaking bad, but she… she was gentle and soft around Matthew, and only him (he invertedly winced when he remembered her rage at her crew when one suggested he take Alfred 'for a spin').

"I leave you two alone for now, but Alfred, come see me in my cabin afterwards, there is much we need to talk about." And with that, she left the brothers to their own devices.

X

Arthur was _**furious**_, he was _**raging**_, he was _**bloodthirsty**_, he was worried _**sick**_ about Alfred. His Alfred, his boy, his love, his sunshine, his –

"Oui, Captain, you grip that any tighter, and the wheel will break…"

He glared at his first mate. "Sod off, frog, I'm deep in thought."

"Oui, yes, about Alfred, we know." Francis's expression then turned thoughtful. "We'll find him, Arthur. Anya is vicious, ruthless, and the such… but she has never taken a hostage before, so there must be a reason – "

"OF COURSE THERE IS, HE'S BLOODY BEAUTIFUL. HIS HAIR IS LIKE GOLDEN WHEAT AND HIS EYES ARE BLUER THAN THE SKIES. DAMMIT FRANCIS, YOU'RE NOT MAKING IT BETTER!"

"…"

The captain's face turned several shades red. "I… I yelled that, didn't I?"

"Oui, Arthur, for the whole crew to hear."

"Well, why didn't you stop me!?"

The Frenchman smirked, and Arthur felt like he needed to acquaint his fist with the man's face. "Because, the crew and I have waited a long time for you to admit all that out loud."

"YOU BLOODY FUCKING FROOOOOOG!"

"Ow, Captain! D-Don't attack me! Just give in to l'amour!"

"One more word out of you, and I swear - !"

"You'll swear _what_?!"

Thankfully, one of the Italian brothers (Arthur later discovered it was the younger, hot-headed one) grabbed the wheel and kept steering, all the while muttering about "bastards and their love squabbles".

**A/N: Thank you, aqua, for pointing out that misspell! x.x**


	8. Chapter 8

After an hour long battle between the captain and his best mate (although, it was more like hair pulling and screaming, but in Arthur's mind, it was a battle for the ages), they were on route to Port Terrimin – a port that was said Anya frequented. Hopefully, that was where she was heading, otherwise there was no telling how long he'd have to wait.

Arthur took deep breathes, trying to keep his grip and his temper calm. His thoughts kept turning for the worst, though. What if Anya did something horrible to Alfred? Sold him for slavery? Dropped him off somewhere without a gold coin or a map? What if… what if she kept him for herself?

"Arthur, the wheel…"

"What now, Francis!? I'm busy – "

"You have snapped the handles*…"

When the British pirate looked down, he glowered as he saw that he had, indeed, snapped the handles he was holding. "So what? There's _other_ handles on here…"

The Frenchmen sighed; he hoped Alfred was fairing much better…

* * *

"What!? You want me to stay here!?"

Anya nodded, smiling sweetly at the boy. "Da, Matvey is happy now."

"But, but I – " Alfred stopped speaking as her face turned eerie, her eyes narrowing but her smile still in place. The scary aura surrounding her didn't help much, either…

"I do not care what your life was before this ship, but now that you are here, you will stay here. Matvey's happiness is what matters most."

He could feel his heart constrict at her words. But what about his happiness…? What about Arthur's..? Arthur… He wanted to fight, wanted to gain his freedom and go back to his home, his ship. One look at the female Russian's face told him that not even his grit and abnormal strength would be much help against her. Alfred's spirit deflated, all hope of him escaping gone, having walked the proverbial plank.

"I… I would like to go see my… my br-brother now, please."

She perked up, nodding happily. "Da, very good! I knew you would want to stay here. Just needed little persuading."

He turned around and walked out the door after that, his shoulders slumped and head hung. He drug his feet as he walked across the deck, missing the glances and understanding looks from the crew – they knew that Anya always got what she wanted and this boy was no different – and headed towards Matthew's cabin. He sighed, at least maybe his brother could fill that void from being away from Arthur… maybe this is what Arthur wanted, anyway…

_"Dear boy, he cares. That is why you are both in such a state."_

_"Oui, I am serious, dear beau. He loves you so dearly, so purely, that he cannot stand it sometimes. I truly believe that he loved you from the minute you opened your eyes."_

_"Can't you see? Would one sully a white shirt with mud? Shame an innocent with ungodly rumors?" _

"_Would you ruin the most pure thing in your life with bloodshed?_"

Francis's words from the night before he collapsed came back to him, hitting him in the chest and gripping his heart with a joy he had seldom ever felt. No, Arthur _did_ care for him, loved him! But then, what about Matthew? He had just found his brother again, would he have to leave him?

Would he have to choose between the love of his life who saved him or his brother who had been searching relentlessly for him?

**A/N: Oh noes, what will happen? Will Alfie choose Arthur or Matthew? Will Arthur come to his rescue? WILL YOU REVIEW? C'mon, you know you want to ;D It helps me update faster.**


	9. Chapter 9

Matthew had been asleep when he entered, so Alfred decided to sit on the bed next to him and stare out the small opening in the wall that served as a window. He was so confused, scared, restless. The choice he had to make was much too big, and he knew someone was going to get hurt. What was he suppose to do?

"You left someone behind, didn't you?" The question was soft, quietly whispered into the silence of the room, but to Alfred it sounded as if it was screamed right into his ear. Startled, he whipped his head around to find his brother's eyes wide, fixed on him.

"It's okay," he continued in the same whisper, "I know that look, that feeling. The Royal Navy captured Anya and decided that I need rescuing."

Alfred vaguely remembered Francis and Arthur talking about it. It wasn't too long ago, and he always wondered what happened. According to what he overheard, she somehow broke free and took a young man hostage. "You... you were her hostage?"

"No! I'm with her of my own free will!" The darker haired twin sat up, for once looking stern. "I'm the one who got her out of there, I left with her because I wanted to! I left with her because..." He trailed off, his voice fading.

Realization hit him. Hard. "You left with her because you love her. And she loves you." As he watched his brother's face lit up from the knowledge that he understood, his heart clenched and he was rapidly filled with that undescribable feeling of joy again. If his brother could love a pirate and it work out, did that mean he and Arthur stood a chance?

However, all good things must come to an end, and his joy was overcome with the memory of his earlier conversation with Anya.

"Yes, I left someone behind, and I'll never see him again." The tears were welling up, and he didn't even try to hide them."Anya said I _have_ to stay here, it makes you happy. But what about me, and what about Arthur? I'll never see him again!"

The dam broke, and the flood of pain was too powerful as Alfred wept openly and heavily now. The thought of never seeing his British pirate was too much, simply too much. He slumped over, tears running down his face and sobs fogging up his glasses. He gripped the covers on the bed, his knuckles turning white. He started babbling, unaware of it, his thoughts spilling out. "What am I suppose to do!? Why must I choose between you and Artie? Why can't I have you both?"

A cool, calming hand settled over one of Alfred's hot and trembling ones. He felt his brother scoot closer and wrap him in his arms. "It's okay, Al. You don't have to choose. I want you to be happy, and he makes you happy. I now know you're safe, and that makes me happy. Please don't cry anymore..."

Alfred looked up at him, unsure of what to say. "M-Matthew..."

Matthew smiled shyly at him, reaching over to the desk beside the bed and grabbing a tissue then handing it to him. "I had to make that choice - stay in the care of the Royal Navy or leave with Anya. Comfort and stability and land or love and freedom and Anya. Besides, it's not like we'll never see each other again. I'm sure we can always find the same port and celebrate our birthday together, or maybe port in the same town every few months."

"Yea... Yea, I think I'd like that, bro." Alfred smiled back at Matthew, relief sweeping over him.

"Bro? Really, Alfred? It's that had to say 'ther'?" The Canadian tried to sound offended, but the mirth in his voice was too hard to hide. They both bursted out laughing, each feeling light-hearted and hopeful.

Matthew stood up, mentioning to Alfred to stay when he started to follow suit. "I'm going to go talk to Anya, okay? You stay here." The lighter-haired twin nodded as he watched the other leave the room, resuming his earlier window-gazing.

Arthur loved him, he found his brother, and there was a possibility that things might work out. And yet... and yet, Alfred still had this sinking feeling in his stomach...

**A/N: OMIGAWD I'M SO FREAKIN' SORRY! I've had serious writer's block, not to mention my laptop broke, two of my cats had kittens, and life in general decide to acquaint my face with its fist.** **I know the chapter is short(er than normal), and I know it's not good enough to plead for forgiveness. However, I can promise quicker updates again.**


	10. Complete

**Hello, and welcome to the finished, edited, and cleaned-up fic of TWWL. Now, as I'm sure some of you can tell, this is the ENTIRE thing. I added some stuff, smoothed things out a bit, and made it into one lovely piece of work instead of several bits and pieces. No, you do not need to read the first 9 installments, and no, you don't need to read the whole thing if you **_**have**_** read the first 9 installments. **

**Enjoy ^.^**

* * *

The waves were lovely, dark and deep…

Captain Arthur Kirkland shook his head in disappointment. That wasn't how the line went…And yet, it fit perfectly with the stormy night he was experiencing on his ship, The Boiling Teapot. It was day three in this horrid storm, and he wasn't sure how much longer his supplies would last. If he was still on the right course, he should be docking in Paradise Cove in just a few days. However, if he wasn't on course…

The bushy-browed man shook his head once more, dislodging that frightful thought.

He stood up and stretched his lean body, rubbing his eyes as he did so. He needed to check on deck, needed to see how bad the storm had gotten. He moved from his cabin to the deck, his strides masculine yet graceful, his face a mask of authority. As soon as he stepped outside, he was assaulted by the cold, harsh rain.

This is what he loved most about the sea. He craved the rain soaking his corn-colored locks, closing his emerald eyes and tipping his head up to let the rain slide down his face. He loved to feel the waves loll his boat back and forth, like a mother rocking her child. Yes, he was a child of the sea; the salt was in his blood and the sunshine on his skin.

"Oui, Angleterre! There is something out there!" The voice of his first mate, Francis Bonnefoy, rang in his ear. "Look, look, you blind man! Do you see it?"

Captain Kirkland grinded his teeth "Shut it, you bloody frog! I just got out here!" However, as they exchanged biting barbs, the Englishman stood beside the Frenchman now, taking the offered spying glass to see what his mate was pointing out. At first, he saw nothing but foamy tips and jagged rocks, nothing at all.

That bloody idiot, he must be drunk…wait a minute, what is that? He finally found what the man was talking about. On one of the rocks, there a young man (or perhaps a boy?) stranded. He could only see the top half of the lad, but he could tell the poor soul needed help. Even if he was a pirate, he was not completely heartless.

"Francis! Steer us to him, no man could survive on those rocks, much less in a storm such as this."

"Oui, mon captain. You're not such a heartless bastard, after all. Now, if we may discuss me taking some time off after we dock…?" The blond Frenchman wagged his eyebrows lewdly at the captain.

The captain snarled. "No, you blooming frog, you CANNOT have some time off! We're docking, supplying, and then LEAVING."

"Ah, but mon cheri, what of the boy? Surely, we cannot just leave him in a town with nothing, oui?"

Arthur lowered the spying glass, staring off into the sea. "Yes, what of the boy…?" He thought long and hard, knowing his decision could affect the rest of the boy's life, and there was no way he could live with such guilt if the boy failed from the start. "We'll…We will keep him with us, until we either find his home town or, if he wishes to, remain with us. We'll give the lad a choice."

He could feel his first mate's eyes on him, staring and wondering and thinking. This wasn't the first person he and his crew had rescued, but even the Frenchman could tell…there was something weird about this boy on the rocks - this boy, in the middle of nowhere, who had already enchanted his way onto the ship. Where did he come from?

He had no more time to think as the ship crept up onto the rocks. He watched as his crew did what they could to bring the unconscious boy up to the ship's deck. His men heaved and his men hoed, lassoing him like he was a log and pulling him up. The men stepped aside as their captain walked down toward the boy.

The British man looked down at his newest rescue, his newest charge, so to say. He could see now that he was young, maybe about fourteen or fifteen. He couldn't be quite sure of the color of his hair, but it appeared to be a dirty blond, very dirty blond. He wouldn't be able to tell eye color until the lad woke up. The boy was dressed in a simple white shirt and tan breeches, both torn and ragged from whatever he had been through.

"Take him to my cabin…Change his clothes and attend to any injuries. Put him in my bed, let him rest." Captain Kirkland's voice left no room to argue, no room to give an unwanted opinion. A few of his sturdier men picked the boy up as gently as possible, following their captain's orders.

Francis stood beside him, leaning close to whisper in his captain's ear. "Arthur…"

"Yes, Francis, you do not need to tell me…I don't know why I said take him to my cabin…I have never done that before…"

~4 years later~

Newly-turned 18 year old Alfred F. Jones was walking along the mast again, a favorite past-time of his. He knew Artie would be looking for him soon, but until then, he intended to enjoy the sunshine and salty air to their fullest. Behind his glasses, his bright blue sea eyes scanned the vastness of the ocean. It had been 4 years yesterday since he was pulled from the rocks and aboard The Boiling Teapot. Yesterday was also his birthday, or at least that's what Artie decided. All he could remember when he woke up was his name and his age – nothing else. He didn't really mind all that much, not remembering. For all he knew, he could have been abandoned at sea, left to die, if it wasn't for the courageous Captain Kirkland! Or perhaps, he was a runaway prince, finally being tired of the royal life and escaped but was captured!

Or maybe…he was just a lonely boy, and he would forever be grateful to the blond Brit for giving him a chance.

"Alfred, lad, what have I told you about being up there?" The boy grinned at the shouting. "You bloody brat, you get down here this instant! And I swear, if you decide to 'swing' down here like last time, I'll - "

Arthur never got to finish his sentence, for the boy was already flying down, his hand wrapped in one of the many ropes. He could remember the first few times Alfred had tried this – a broken arm here, a torn muscle there. It never dampened the boy's spirits, though. If anything, it was the driving force for him, made him try again and again until he got it right.

He crossed his arms and scowled at the younger man as he landed in front of him. Whether or not the boy had learned to land gracefully wasn't the point - if he happened to get hurt, there wasn't much that could be done about it. They were doctorless at the moment, their former doctor asking for leave in his homeland of Japan, and the nearest port was several days away. He was fond of the boy and didn't want to see him in any sort of pain.

"Aw, but Artie…I landed, didn't I? And I looked pretty cool doing it!" The boy in front of Arthur grinned that sun-bright smile, and he caved in. Yes, he was fond of the boy – too fond – but it couldn't be helped. He knew he'd congratulate the boy, scold him lightly, and Alfred would be on his merry way.

"Yes, yes, lad…and a damn good landing it was. Do it again and I'll wring your bloody neck, and this time I'm serious!" He scowled for added effect, but to no avail. Alfred kept smiling, he knew he won. If only the boy knew exactly how much he won from Arthur..

"Captain, ahead! There be a ship in means to engage us!" He heard the Spaniard in the Crow's Nest cry out. His nerves immediately set on edge for years of battle, he grabbed Alfred by the wrist.

"Come, boy, below deck." He gave no room for Alfred to complain as he began to drag him down. He could feel the boy tug fiercely at his trapped wrist, but the captain would not let go.

"But Artie, I could help!"

Captain Kirkland looked into those pleading blue eyes, strengthening his resolve in the matter at hand. "No, Alfred, my boy, you can't. I won't allow it, nor will I ever."

"Dammit, Arthur, I'm 18! I'm a man, not a boy!" Alfred looked at the blond captain before him, trying to square his jaw and make the meanest face he could in hopes for his hero, his idol (but he'd never let anyone know that the self-proclaimed hero looked up to someone) seeing him as something other than the 14-year old rescued boy. "I can fight, you taught me how to use a sword and gun, I can strong arm any other man out there! Lemme fight!"

The younger man watched confused as Arthur's face softened, taking on a look of pride and affection he'd never seen on the captain. "Yes, Alfred, you are indeed a man now, and a good one. I want to keep it that way."

"I don't understand – "

"Nor will you, I suppose. Lad, you are … like sunshine." Arthur could feel his voice thicken with emotion, but he didn't care. He could hear his men above deck rallying themselves for an attack, and he knew his first mate was already angling the ship towards their target. He needed to get this out, and quickly. "So pure and happy, untouched by the hand of violence. I want to keep you that way; the battlefield is not for you, Alfred. So please, stay here. I couldn't bear it if you were hurt, or worse…lost that sunshine you always seem to shower me with." He could feel the tears threatening to slip, but he still didn't care. He meant every word of it.

"A-Artie…" Alfred never got to finish his sentence before the man he admired charged from below the deck to the madness that awaited him above. It was hard, knowing that obeying Arthur meant staying put, but he would. All he could do was hope that his captain would come back well, and he knew he would. After all, he was one of the most feared pirates to sail the sea, he's been told.

X

Arthur shook the last of the bloodlust from his senses and watched as the offending ship sailed with its crew onboard and several pounds of treasure missing. The captain smirked, no one crossed the path of Captain Kirkland, the most feared pirate of the seas and lived – without giving him their treasure, of course.

The British pirate watched the sun set far off in the horizon, a calm settling over him at the peaceful scene. This was yet another fight he was able to keep Alfred from, but the lad was getting restless. He knew he wouldn't be able to keep the growing boy sheltered under the deck forever.

"Thinking about our poppet, oui?" He heard Francis creep up behind him, readying himself for the same lecture he got each and every time. "You cannot keep him away from this forever, Angleterre. He is now a man, an attractive one at that." Arthur could feel himself growl as he imagined the lewd wag of his first mate's eyebrows.

"Frog, I swear, if you don't back the hell away from me now – "

"You'll what? Gut me where I stand? No, mon cher, you won't. You would risk letting Alfred know that you are a blood thirsty pirate, instead of the old stuffy gentleman you portray yourself to be."

It was the first time his first mate ever voiced the obvious to him, but it felt that he was just smacked with the realization. That was exactly it, he didn't want Alfred to see that side of him. Ever since that first time Alfred opened his big blue eyes and smiled at the captain, he swore to never let anything steal the boy's inner light, that ability to shine with nothing but a smile on his face.

"Francis… What… What do I do?"

"Oh, Arthur, you know what you must do." The captain stiffened as he heard a sigh. "Either leave him at port or let him do what he desires, to fight alongside you."

Finally, he whipped around to face Francis, his face twisted between rage and confusion. "I cannot possibly do either! That boy belongs on this ship as much as you or I or any member of my crew! He tends to the everyday chores that is required of every man on here, he steers better than you or I, he never complains, and he… he is grateful for being here."

"I know, Angleterre, but … you must know how unfair it is of you to keep him locked up as a pet under the deck." Francis's eyes looked at his captain sadly, almost pitying him. "You have to let him choose, Arthur."

"Francis …"

Before Arthur could even compose himself, think of how to respond to his first mate, he heard a gasp and a rush of air followed by being enveloped in a crushing hug. "Artie! Artie, are you okay? Dude, why are you crying? Are you hurt?" Alfred's voice rang loudly in his ears, catching him off guard.

"What are you prattling on about, lad?"

"You're crying, Artie…"

Sure enough, he could feel Alfred wipe tears from his cheeks. He mentally smacked himself, pirates do not cry over such petty things. Or anything at all. Certainly not over the prospect of sullying the only pure thing he's ever had in his life.

Instead of telling the boy how he really felt, he ruffled the slightly taller blond's hair and forced a smile on. "No worries, my lad, I'm fine. Too much adrenaline for me, I suppose. I apologize for leaving you down there for so long."

"I wouldn't be done there for so long if you'd just let me fight with you! You know I could do it!" The determination on the younger man's face made Arthur's heart soar and sink in a single moment. And, within that single moment, he knew what he had to do.

"Yes, Alfred, I…I know you could." The captain cleared his throat. "Lad, accompany me to my cabin, I…I have something to discuss with you…"

X

The wind blew sharply at the huddled boy, a small whimper escaping his lips. How could Arthur do this to him? Didn't Arthur like him anymore? Did he do something wrong? He could never leave the ship, and yet…it was what the Brit wanted. The fresh memory of it all echoed through his head…

"You can't do this to me, Artie! The Boiling Teapot is all I know!" Alfred fought back tears the best he could. As soon as him and Artie stepped inside his room, the captain had turned cold, wouldn't even face him.

"Alfred, it's all you know because you've never tried to know more. You could have a family out there, wouldn't you like to know them?" The youth shrunk at the almost metallic sound of Artie's voice. Was this the very same man who showed him warmth when he couldn't even remember who he was?

"No, I don't want to know them! Artie, please – "

"You have until port to decide, Alfred. To make a life for yourself on port, or…to stay on this ship. I warn you, however, your cheery life as you know it will change if you stay here." At that, Arthur (not Artie)left him all alone, in the room where his first and fondest memory was created.

He thought he had made the captain proud all these years, all the praise and smiles and pats on the back. All the times Arthur would call him 'his lad', or say 'good job, my boy'. Didn't…Didn't Arthur love him? Alfred loved Arthur, loved him so much that sometimes he thought his heart would burst. He…he thought that the captain loved him back, but he was wrong. Maybe this was Arthur's way of ridding himself of the orphaned boy with no past and no future.

Alfred clenched his fists, ignoring his knuckles turning white under the pressure. If that's what his captain wanted, then he would obey that order.

X

It had been three days since Arthur had told Alfred of his ultimatum and not once in those three days has Alfred spoken to him. The boy wouldn't even look at him, and if Arthur requested the boy's presence, he would inform another member of the crew to take his place. Good, he thought, it's for his own good. Best the lad be somewhere he can blossom, maybe even…fall in love.

The ache in his heart told him otherwise. It wasn't the best for Alfred, it was the best for him. He was falling in love with the boy, had been for years. It's why he shielded him from the harsh realities of being a pirate. His selfishness plagued him day and night, to the point where he was sure that he wouldn't be able to control himself any longer. It was easier when the boy (no, man…) was younger, but now… He had grown up into such a fine looking young man, tall and strong and virile.

Arthur shook his head clean. Port will be in a few days, and he had to keep strong, for himself and for Alfred. A pirate can never love something as bright as Alfred. Especially a pirate such as Captain Kirkland.

However, he could not deny that the strain between him and Alfred was noticed by the crew. Things were done as properly as they should be, orders were ignored or disobeyed, and the captain hardly left his cabin. It was one of the increasingly rare times that he was out and about, and all he could do was look at the lad as he stargazed.

His heart clenched, and he felt violently ill. The boy was too ... _beautiful_ to look at. Yes, he was the picture perfect image of a man, but with his hair whipping around in the wind and his eyes reflecting the starlight, he was simply too breathtaking. And it pained the British pirate to know that Alfred F. Jones will never be his. With that last thought, he retreated back into his cabin.

X

The ship lolled back and forth, making the night sky look like it was alive. Alfred looked at the stars he had known his whole life. Would port have stars like these? Would he be able to count them and stare at them and bask in their light at port? He highly doubted, from what he gathered the few times he did leave the ship. The towns were always too bright, too loud, too fast for him to appreciate the twinkling jewels in the sky. He didn't want to leave, he couldn't leave. Alfred balled his fists tightly, remembering bitterly how the captain, his hero, wanted him gone and that is why he had to leave.

"Alfred, mon cher, why are you out here all alone?" Flinching and spinning around from being spooked, the bespectacled boy didn't hear Francis walk up behind him. "Dear enfant, Angelterre will skin your hide if you catch a cold."

"I don't care what he thinks!" He shouted at the top of his lungs, not caring who heard him. He just didn't care anymore. There was too much pain, too much emotion. Alfred could feel his body tense and shake, anger heating through his veins. "If he doesn't care, why should I?!"

The Frenchman answered him with uncomfortable silence, not answering. The ship continued to loll and rock, ebb and flow. There was only quiet, a heavy and unbearable thing that started to fill Alfred so much he thought he might burst.

"Dear boy, he cares. That is why you are both in such a state."

There was so much being said with so few words. Could it really be possible? Could his wildest dreams really be true?

"Francis…" His voiced wavered between uncertainty and sternness. It couldn't be possible, not with the way Arthur (Captain Kirkland, he corrected himself) had been acting.

"Oui, I am serious, dear beau. He loves you so dearly, so purely, that he cannot stand it sometimes. I truly believe that he loved you from the minute you opened your eyes." Alfred opened his mouth to protest, but the ship's first mate bulldozed on. "Can't you see? Would one sully a white shirt with mud? Shame an innocent with ungodly rumors?" The Frenchman's voice suddenly grew thick with raw emotion and strain. "_Would you ruin the most pure thing in your life with bloodshed_?"

Instantly, Alfred understood. The clarity was so blinding, so profound that at first he couldn't wrap his mind around it. Was this why Captain Kirkland (Arthur, he corrected himself) kept him locked below, why he cried, why he was sending him to port? The man he loved for years, his hero and savior, loved him back. Heat rushed through his veins again, but it was righteous and wonderful – like the heated wine the young Italian cooks gave him one time.

"Oh…"

And that was the only sound he made as Alfred F. Jones collapsed.

X

Arthur sat by Alfred's side, by the very same bed he sat by 4 years ago when the boy was unconscious. He brushed a callous hand through golden locks, stared at the peaceful slumbering face. Oh, how his insides twisted and his blood ran cold as Francis brought Alfred to him. He barely heard the Frenchman ramble off about telling the lad the truth as he gathered the boy in his arms and laid him in his bed.

It had been almost 4 days since then, and Alfred had yet to so much as stir. His breathing was slow and soft, his body warm – good signs, Arthur thought. However, he couldn't help but think… think that his lovely ray of sunshine would never wake up.

"Oh Alfred…My love, my lad…" The captain felt hot tears slid down cold cheeks, but he didn't care. He was alone here, in his cabin, with the only one who had ever mattered to him. "I'm so sorry, I should have never… I couldn't keep you here, I couldn't destroy that beautiful soul of yours with… with… with my pirating." Sobs wracked his body now, and he didn't care. "Please, Alfred, please wake up. Smile at me again, look at me with those sky eyes and that stupid annoying grin you use against me." He couldn't bear to look at his face, however. The lifelessness was too much, too real, too unnerving.

The pain and tears weighed on him heavily, slowly tugging his head toward Alfred's chest. He gripped the shirt before him with intensity, soaked it as if he cried the entire ocean's content. Would he never hear his laugh again, never watch the boy preform tricks and flips in order to impress him, would he never ever have the chance to tell Alfred he loved him.

"Y'know Artie, I've been told my grin is charming." Arthur felt the chest rumble with laughter, and then a weary hand place itself on top of his head.

Arthur couldn't believe it, wouldn't believe it… But it was true. His beloved boy came back to him. Whipping his head up so fast it almost spun, the pirate looked at Alfred's bright and smiling face. He knew he was grinning, his face feeling as if it could spilt in two at any moment.

"Alfred! Oh, Alfred, my lad, you're okay!"

"Yes, Arthur, I'm fine. Better than fine, now that I know how you feel…" Arthur's eyes widened as the boy leaned in, feeling hot breathe grace his lips. He closed his eyes, anticipating the sensation.

Suddenly, the ship jerked him away from Alfred. His eyes were groggy and his body made of lead as he looked at the still sleeping Alfred.

Reality was indeed a cruel mistress.

X

Arthur paced back and forth – how could this be? They were so close to port, and now it might not even matter. He could hear his men above howling and screeching in fear. From that alone, he knew what was happening.

Captain Anya Braginski's ship The Sunflower was approaching, probably with the intent to plunder.

He quickly glanced at Alfred's sleeping form. Why now, of all times? Why her, of all pirates? Did the sea no longer have any mercy for him? Did Fate no longer care? He could feel it in his bones – he was never going to be able to tell Alfred how sorry he was for all this, and how much he loved him.

There was a crash above, cannon balls probably destroying both ships. There was screaming above, men and women clashing against each other in the pursuit of life and treasure. There were calls out to the captain, to him. There were no more thoughts as Captain Arthur Kirkland grabbed his cutlass and raced above with the rest of his crew. His soul be damned if he went without a fight. He smirked.

_Well, Miss Anya… Let's see who is the more fearsome between us two, shall we?_

* * *

_-Parry, thrust, clink-_

"Ah, Captain Kirkland, your skills are as the rumors go, da?"

_-Thrust, clank, clash-_

"The same to you, dear Anya. I dare say, I haven't had as much fun in ages!"

With a sudden lunge, the British captain nicked the Russian captain's side, shredding her blouse and skin. Red seeped into the fabric, bringing attention to it from both sets of eyes. "Oh, first blood… No more fun then, I'm afraid."

Without another word, the larger Russian woman rushed him, her elbow connecting with his jaw. On any other occasion the blow would have been ignored and countered, but with lack of sleeping and eating working against him, Arthur succumbed to it and crashed onto the deck of his ship.

Clearly the victor, Anya gathered the blond man and decided to carry him to his cabin. Yes, she was known to be heartless and ruthless, but she did spare those whom she respected, and there was no doubt that the British captain earned her respect. She smiled sweetly as she heard her crew getting the upper hand, morale faltering for The Boiling Teapot's crew as they watched their captain go down.

She opened the door to his cabin, only to have her eyes fall on Alfred. "Oh, Matvey, I will have the nicest present for you I could ever bring you, da, yes. You will be so happy!"

She scooped up Alfred while laying Arthur down, cradling the blonde boy like a mother would a child. Anya took one last look at Arthur, then Alfred. "I am sorry, dear Kirkland, but whoever this boy is to you, I am sure it is not as important as he is to my Matvey." And with that, she left.

X

Alfred sat in bed, bewildered. For the past two hours, he had been staring at his… his twin while he told an almost unbelievable story. Throughout the whole thing, that female Russian pirate (Anya, if he remembers correctly) sat in the corner, hand on the hilt of her sword and eyes trained on Matthew. The pit of the boy's stomach was dropping fast, he missed Arthur. He missed his captain dearly. But, if what the mirror image in front of him was saying was true… all these years, all those memories he tried desperately to remember…

"So, let me see if I follow…" Alfred cleared his throat, watching soft violet eyes sparkle. "We're… we're twins, but we don't look exactly alike…"

"Fraternal twins." The mirror's voice (Matthew, he reminded himself) was soft and shy, and had an accent to it. If he remembered what Arthur taught him about countries, he was pretty sure it was Canadian.

"Hush, Matvey, let him think, da?" It was the first time Alfred heard her speak since introductions, and he was surprised at how gentle she sounded when addressing Matthew, who was now blushing.

"O-Oh, yes, I'm sorry. Not many people know the term, and I'm use to correcting them."

"It is fine, continue, Alfred."

"Right…" He cleared his throat, gathering his thoughts once more. "So, anyway, we're fraternal twins, and our parents divorced and split us up. So, we decided to run away and hopped on a boat, only for a storm to break the boat and wreck us onto different rocks?"

Matthew nodded, smiling slightly. "Right, and Anya picked me up and you…" His face suddenly became very sad, his eyes looking down. "You must have hit your head, since you don't remember anything. At least… at least you were found and taken care of… We searched and searched for you, Al. I… I had started to lose hope…"

Alfred didn't know what was going on, but his body moved of its own accord. The sight of his brother's tears triggered something, a fierce need to protect, and he suddenly enveloped him in a hug. He knew, or at least felt, that he still cared for his brother the second he laid eyes on him. Maybe it is because we're twins, he thought.

"I'm sorry I worried you, Matty. I… I still don't remember, but I promise you, I do believe you." He watched as Anya stood up. He had heard stories about the female Russian, all of them pretty freaking bad, but she… she was gentle and soft around Matthew, and only him (he invertedly winced when he remembered her rage at her crew when one suggested he take Alfred 'for a spin').

"I leave you two alone for now, but Alfred, come see me in my cabin afterwards, there is much we need to talk about." And with that, she left the brothers to their own devices.

X

Arthur was furious, he was **raging**, he was **bloodthirsty**, he was **sick** with worry about Alfred. His Alfred, his boy, his love, his sunshine, his –

"Oui, Captain, you grip that any tighter, and the wheel will break…"

He glared at his first mate. "Sod off, frog, I'm deep in thought."

"Oui, yes, about Alfred, we know." Francis's expression then turned thoughtful. "We'll find him, Arthur. Anya is vicious, ruthless, and the such… but she has never taken a hostage before, so there must be a reason – "

"OF COURSE THERE IS, HE'S BLOODY BEAUTIFUL. HIS HAIR IS LIKE GOLDEN WHEAT AND HIS EYES ARE BLUER THAN THE SKIES. DAMMIT FRANCIS, YOU'RE NOT MAKING IT BETTER!"

"…"

The captain's face turned several shades red. "I… I yelled that, didn't I?"

"Oui, Arthur, for the whole crew to hear."

"Well, why didn't you stop me!?"

The Frenchman smirked, and Arthur felt like he needed to acquaint his fist with the man's face. "Because, the crew and I have waited a long time for you to admit all that out loud."

"YOU BLOODY FUCKING FROOOOOOG!"

"Ow, Captain! D-Don't attack me! Just give in to l'amour!"

"One more word out of you, and I swear - !"

"You'll swear what?!"

Thankfully, one of the Italian brothers (Arthur later discovered it was the younger, hot-headed one) grabbed the wheel and kept steering, all the while muttering about "bastards and their love squabbles".

After an hour long battle between the captain and his best mate (although, it was more like hair pulling and screaming, but in Arthur's mind, it was a battle for the ages), they were on route to Port Terrimin – a port that was said Anya frequented. Hopefully, that was where she was heading, otherwise there was no telling how long he'd have to wait.

Arthur took deep breathes, trying to keep his grip and his temper calm. His thoughts kept turning for the worst, though. What if Anya did something horrible to Alfred? Sold him for slavery? Dropped him off somewhere without a gold coin or a map? What if… what if she kept him for herself?

"Arthur, the wheel…"

"What now, Francis!? I'm busy – "

"You have snapped the handles …"

When the British pirate looked down, he glowered as he saw that he had, indeed, snapped the handles he was holding. "So what? There's other handles on here…"

The Frenchmen sighed; he hoped Alfred was fairing much better…

X

"What!? You want me to stay here!?"

Anya nodded, smiling sweetly at the boy. "Da, Matvey is happy now."

"But, but I – " Alfred stopped speaking as her face turned eerie, her eyes narrowing but her smile still in place. The scary aura surrounding her didn't help much, either…

"I do not care what your life was before this ship, but now that you are here, you will stay here. Matvey's happiness is what matters most."

He could feel his heart constrict at her words. But what about his happiness…? What about Arthur's..? Arthur… He wanted to fight, wanted to gain his freedom and go back to his home, his ship. One look at the female Russian's face told him that not even his grit and abnormal strength would be much help against her. Alfred's spirit deflated, all hope of him escaping gone, having walked the proverbial plank.

"I… I would like to go see my… my br-brother now, please."

She perked up, nodding happily. "Da, very good! I knew you would want to stay here. Just needed little persuading."

He turned around and walked out the door after that, his shoulders slumped and head hung. He drug his feet as he walked across the deck, missing the glances and understanding looks from the crew – they knew that Anya always got what she wanted and this boy was no different – and headed towards Matthew's cabin. He sighed, at least maybe his brother could fill that void from being away from Arthur… maybe this is what Arthur wanted, anyway…

_"Dear boy, he cares. That is why you are both in such a state."_

_"Oui, I am serious, dear beau. He loves you so dearly, so purely, that he cannot stand it sometimes. I truly believe that he loved you from the minute you opened your eyes."_

_"Can't you see? Would one sully a white shirt with mud? Shame an innocent with ungodly rumors?"_

_"Would you ruin the most pure thing in your life with bloodshed?"_

Francis's words from the night before he collapsed came back to him, hitting him in the chest and gripping his heart with a joy he had seldom ever felt. No, Arthur did care for him, loved him! But then, what about Matthew? He had just found his brother again, would he have to leave him?

Would he have to choose between the love of his life who saved him or his brother who had been searching relentlessly for him?

How could he choose? He kept walking toward Matthew's cabin, deep in thought. Would it be possible to have both...? No, no it wouldn't. Anya and Arthur were pirates, opposing pirates, how would that work? No, it had to be either and not both.

Matthew had been asleep when he entered, so Alfred decided to sit on the bed next to him and stare out the small opening in the wall that served as a window. He was so confused, scared, restless. The choice he had to make was much too big, and he knew someone was going to get hurt. What was he suppose to do?

"You left someone behind, didn't you?" The question was soft, quietly whispered into the silence of the room, but to Alfred it sounded as if it was screamed right into his ear. Startled, he whipped his head around to find his brother's eyes wide, fixed on him.

"It's okay," he continued in the same whisper, "I know that look, that feeling. The Royal Navy captured Anya and decided that I need rescuing."

Alfred vaguely remembered Francis and Arthur talking about it. It wasn't too long ago, and he always wondered what happened. According to what he overheard, she somehow broke free and took a young man hostage. "You... you were her hostage?"

"No! I'm with her of my own free will!" The darker haired twin sat up, for once looking stern. "I'm the one who got her out of there, I left with her because I wanted to! I left with her because..." He trailed off, his voice fading.

Realization hit him. Hard. "You left with her because you love her. And she loves you." As he watched his brother's face lit up from the knowledge that he understood, his heart clenched and he was rapidly filled with that undescribable feeling of joy again. If his brother could love a pirate and it work out, did that mean he and Arthur stood a chance?

However, all good things must come to an end, and his joy was overcome with the memory of his earlier conversation with Anya.

"Yes, I left someone behind, and I'll never see him again." The tears were welling up, and he didn't even try to hide them."Anya said I have to stay here, it makes you happy. But what about me, and what about Arthur? I'll never see him again!"

The dam broke, and the flood of pain was too powerful as Alfred wept openly and heavily now. The thought of never seeing his British pirate was too much, simply too much. He slumped over, tears running down his face and sobs fogging up his glasses. He gripped the covers on the bed, his knuckles turning white. He started babbling, unaware of it, his thoughts spilling out. "What am I suppose to do!? Why must I choose between you and Artie? Why can't I have you both?"

A cool, calming hand settled over one of Alfred's hot and trembling ones. He felt his brother scoot closer and wrap him in his arms. "It's okay, Al. You don't have to choose. I want you to be happy, and he makes you happy. I now know you're safe, and that makes me happy. Please don't cry anymore..."

Alfred looked up at him, unsure of what to say. "M-Matthew..."

Matthew smiled shyly at him, reaching over to the desk beside the bed and grabbing a tissue then handing it to him. "I had to make that choice - stay in the care of the Royal Navy or leave with Anya. Comfort and stability and land or love and freedom and Anya. Besides, it's not like we'll never see each other again. I'm sure we can always find the same port and celebrate our birthday together, or maybe port in the same town every few months."

"Yea... Yea, I think I'd like that, bro." Alfred smiled back at Matthew, relief sweeping over him.

"Bro? Really, Alfred? It's that had to say 'ther'?" The Canadian tried to sound offended, but the mirth in his voice was too hard to hide. They both bursted out laughing, each feeling light-hearted and hopeful.

Matthew stood up, mentioning to Alfred to stay when he started to follow suit. "I'm going to go talk to Anya, okay? You stay here." The lighter-haired twin nodded as he watched the other leave the room, resuming his earlier window-gazing.

Arthur loved him, he found his brother, and there was a possibility that things might work out. And yet... and yet, Alfred still had this sinking feeling in his stomach...

X

"But Matvey, you have searched so long for him." Anya's face was a mixture of confusion and concern. Did that boy do something to her Matvey?

"I know, but - " His face and voice were sheepish and shy, refusing to look her in the eye.

She growled, not pleased with that look at all. "Did he do something to hurt you? Tell Anya, I'll get rid of him."

"No!" The exclamation surprised them both, silencing building between them. The younger male cleared his throat. "N-No, he didn't do anything to me... It's just..." He took a deep breathe. "He loves someone, Anya. He loves someone and it's killing him to be apart from them."

"But, Matvey," the Russian's voice was soft and slow, "You love him, too, and you have been part for a very long time."

"This is... different. Sure, I will be sad when he leaves, he's my twin, but I'll also be happy because I know he's well and loved and with someone important to him."

"Will you be okay with that? Apart from him again?"

Matthew nodded, biting his lip. "Yes. Yes, I will. Because... I know what it's like to be apart from the one you love. I almost died when they took you away, Anya. I can't do that to Alfred." He looked at her, tears welling up in his violet eyes.

She hated to see her Matvey like that, but it pleased her to know he was as affected by their brief absence as she was.

"Come here, Matvey..." It was a time old tradition, having been done since the first time the boy looked at her. He walked over to her without hesitation, practice and want easing his movements. He sat on her lap and curled up as she embraced him in her arms, gently rocking him. "Shush, little one, it is alright. That will never happen again. Anya will never let them separate us again."

"I-I know..." The Canadian sniffled slightly, still quietly reliving that painful moment in time. "That's why I-I can't do this to Alfred..."

The pirate softly petted his hair, twisting her fingers in it. "Will this make Matvey happy?" He nodded, his face buried in her bosom. "Then Anya will let him go."

"Thank you... But, m-maybe we could meet up for our birthdays or maybe port o-or something..." He whispered nervously. He wasn't really sure what she would say, and he knew he was pushing his luck.

There was quietness for a long while as she thought. Matthew feared that she might take the question negatively. He wanted to spend it with her too, of course, but maybe she didn't know that...

"That would be fine."

"Eh?"

Anya chuckled, it wasn't often he reverted to his Canadian nuances. "I said, that would be fine. It will be like big party, da?" She smiled warmly at him as his face brought out into a grin.

They were both startled as someone busted in unannounced. "M-My apologias, m'lady, but a ship fast approaches! We believe it to be Kirkland! What should we do?"

The pirate gave Matthew one last pet before setting him down and standing. "Raise the white flag and be still. Let them board, show them no resistance."

"But, that is madness!"

"No. They are not here for revenge. Do them no harm, and allow me to entertain their captain in my quarters." Her tone told all that the crewman needed to hear - there will be no arguing, or certain death was near.

"As you wish, captain..."

X

"Look at that, Angleterre..."

"Yes, frog, I see it... But I really don't believe it."

The entire crew of The Boiling Teapot watched in amazement as The Sunflower raised the white flag. They doubled their speed (most suspected it was from all the hot air that the Captain was using as he screamed at them to go faster), and before long they were boarding the ship. Arthur stepped on first, nerves ill at ease by the stillness from the other crew. His eyes soon fell on the Russian captain as she nodded to him.

"Come, Kirkalnd, we have much to discuss." She motioned to him and he followed, signaling to his first mate to stand down. He kept quiet as she led him to her cabin, closing the door behind him and pointing toward a chair. "You may sit, if you wish."

"What is this all about, Anya?" Arthur's voice was gruff and clipped as he sat down, staring at her intensely.

She only chuckled as she followed suit and sat opposite of the Brit. "Most would address me by my surname. You do not."

"Of course not, it doesn't seem very gentlemanly. While you are a fearsome pirate, more so than most men I've met, you are still a lady." He cleared his throat, efficiently ending that route of conversation. "Where's the lad you took from my ship?"

"Oh, you mean Alfred? He's with his brother."

"WHAT!?"

The outburst amused her, not even trying to conceal her laughter. "Da, his brother. _Twin_ brother. Before you ask, I saved the boy much as you saved Alfred. However, Matvey remembers his life before this ship. He has searched far and wide for Alfred, and I just happened to find him on your ship."

The knowledge was slowly sinking in. So, Alfred _did_ have a family... So, maybe this is where he wanted to stay, felt he belonged. Perhaps this is why the boy did not meet him himself...

"Well, as long as the lad is h-happy..." He could feel tears burning in his eyes. No, he wouldn't cry. This is what he wanted for Alfred, after all...

"No, he is not happy. Not entirely." Seeing the look of disbelief on her guest's face, the Russian elaborated. "Da, he is happy that he found Matvey, but he is sad that he lost you. It is you that he loves, correct?" Without waiting for a response, she continued. "I am sure we could work something out, however. Matvey suggested sharing birthdays, but I am not so sure. As a pirate, it is so hard to live a stable and easy life, and I have always wanted a stable and easy life for Matvey. He always did enjoy when we would port in Terrimin, it is much like living on a ship with it being an island. I am sure, we as able captains, can work something out."

Arthur felt his heart start to burst as both captains started to grin at each other. "Are you suggesting what I think you are suggesting...?"

"Perhaps I am, Captain Kirkland, or shall I call you Arthur? Pirating has started to bore me. I am already the best out there. However, I have always wondered what it would be like as a normal civilian. Haven't you?"

"As a matter of fact, dear Captain Braginski, dear Anya, I have entertained the thought." He wanted to speak more, but there was a knock at the door, looking over to it as it opened. There stood his Alfred, still as beautiful and as brilliant as he had always been.

As he rushed over and embraced his love, sharing tears and hiccups and shouts of joy, shaking hands with the lookalike standing beside him, he thought that perhaps a life of land wouldn't be so bad if he had his lad by his side.

* * *

**A/N: I finished! I FINISHED! HOT DAAAAAMN! Ahem, anyway... I hope you all enjoyed, and that you loved the ending as much as I did. Yes, I'm sure that some of you wanted mushy gushy snuggly reunion time, but I just didn't feel like it coulda finished it smoothly. **

**However... I am entertaining the thought of an epilogue. A look into 'a life of land' if you will. Maybe if I get enough reviews asking for it, I'll do it? ;)**


	11. A Life of Land

**A/N: I have almost 5,000 views on this fic O.o Whoa, Nelly! Anyway, I considered making this a separate fic in itself, however... I felt like it would be a whole other story instead of just an "insight", which is what I wanted. Again, I thank you all for joining me in this journey, and every review has made me happy :3**

* * *

The wind ruffled the British man's blond hair as he walked the streets of the market, a woven basket hanging by his arm. His pace was brisk as he eyed the various booths, looking for the right one. So far, no one had the things he required, and that greatly irritated him.

_Oh bugger, this wouldn't be so hard if I was sailing again..._

"Flour, flour right here!" His head perked up toward the direction of the voice, quickly heading toward it. The vendor brightened as he caught a glimpse of him. "Ah, Mr. Kirkland! Didn't Miss Braginski buy flour from me not that long ago?"

"Indeed, she did. However, that was for the bakery. We're in need of some for extra curricular baking." The Brit ruffled around in his pocket. "Do you also happen to know if Martha is selling any extra milk, by chance? You do know how Al and Mattie love her cow's milk."

"Perhaps, but I am not sure. You might always check. You and I both know she loves those boys like her own."

They both shared a laugh as the Brit collected the flour and handed some coins over. "Yes, she does, but then again it's very hard to not love those lads." He nodded his head and started to walk off toward the direction of Martha's farm. "Thank you again, old chap."

* * *

The dough was soft as she kneaded it, smiling as the pleasant smell of yeast filled her nose. She never knew she'd enjoy baking so much, but it was almost a stress relief to her. She forgot about the ocean during these times.

Satisfied with her work, she reached over and grabbed a pan, flouring it throughly and depositing the dough into it. Arthur should be back soon with the extra flour and milk, and she wanted this bread to bake off while they worked.

As soon as she slipped it into the oven, the Russian heard the door open and close. "Anya? Are you in the back?"

"Da, I just put some bread in the oven. Did you get the flour?"

The former British pirate sauntered in, a grin on his face and obviously proud of him. "Indeed I did, and Martha gave us a few extra bottles of milk. All I had to do was mention it was the twins' birthday tomorrow, and she was all over the farm."

"Most wonderful. Let's begin on this cake while they're out, yes?"

With practiced ease, they began working. Over the year and a half they had set up the bakery, they had assumed their roles well. Anya discovered that she enjoyed baking, and that Arthur couldn't bake to save his life, but he whipped frostings up and decorated cakes and the like rather well.

They worked in silence, quickly and comfortably. Just as Anya was cracking some eggs, she spoke.

"Arthur?"

"Hm?"

"Do you... miss the sea?"

"Yes." His answer was immediate. "However... I do not miss pirating."

She nodded. "Da, I know what you mean. It was days like those, when I was Captain Braginski, that I hid Matvey under the deck or in my cabin. Alfred told me you did much the same thing."

"I did, and I do not regret it. And I will tell you this, dear Anya - a life of land with my lad is worth more than a thousand lifetimes of sea and fortune without him. Do you not agree?"

She was quiet for a long minute before she hummed in agreement, adding the finishing touches to the cake batter. "Da, I do."

X

The port was busy during this time of year. The hustling and bustling in the market and harbor always fascinated Matthew, and Alfred once he got over the shock. There was always something new - new faces, new clothes, new accents, new shipments, new stories of adventures. They sucked it all in greedily, then would run home and tell their former pirate captains what they heard.

They knew that they missed the sea, and telling them stories of plundering and pillaging was all they could do to assuage the urge.

The two of them were side by side, sitting at the docks and swinging their feet like small children. They had exhausted themselves with all the sight seeing at the market, and with little over an hour before they were allowed to return home (orders, and one never turned down an order from their captain, on sea or on land), they decided they could watch the sea roll in and out gently.

The light glistened off the water, making the sea look like it was filled with thousand of pearls and diamonds, the clouds in the sky looked like lace and silk decorating a blanket of blue sapphires, and the sun hung brightly like a beautiful topaz necklace. It was like this everyday, everywhere. Perhaps it was from years of seeing the vast fortune of pirates, or perhaps it was from the guilt inside both of them from taking their loved ones away from the sea.

"Hey Al?"

"Hm?"

"Do you... think they miss the sea?" There was worry in the darker-haired twin's voice.

"Of course, Mattie. But... I think they're happier this way, too. If I thought the sea would make them the happiest, I'd get on a boat and stay below deck for the rest of my life. Don't you agree?"He turned his head and smiled gently at his brother.

There was silence again, soft and underwhelming, allowing the sea breeze to be the only thing between them. Then, the gentle smile was returned.

"Eh, I do.

* * *

The twins had come home to freshly baked cake and a hasty celebration - they were told to pack their trunks and get plenty of rest, they were sailing out to the neighboring port because Francis and his crew (really, it was _Arthur's _and _Anya's _crew all jumbled together) couldn't quite make it, so it was decided they'd surprise the boys and go visit the crew instead.

Alfred and Arthur laid in bed, curled up around each other, the younger man burying his face in the British man's neck. The night was peaceful, the sounds of the waves and the soft muttering of people still up lulling them to sleep.

"Hey Artie ?"

The sleepy question surprised him, making him to turn his head towards his lad.

"Yes, poppet?"

"Are you happy that you'll get to sail again?" There was curiosity in Alfred's voice, but the pirate could sense the something under it. Was it fear? Concern?

"Alfred."

"Yea?"

"I will not lie - yes, I am happy to sail again, but only because I'll be sailing with you. A life of land is what I wanted with you, and it is what I got. And I am very happy with that. Now go to sleep, silly boy, unless you plan for me to steer while sleeping." He yawned, shutting his eyes tightly and making his point.

When he opened them, he was graced with the most beautiful smile he had ever seen on Alfred's face, so pure and happy and undescribable. "I knew you'd say that, Artie."

"Then why waste our time with such a silly question if you knew the answer?" Arthur couldn't hide the mirth from his voice as he leaned over and planted a small, loving kiss on his lad's brow. "Now, seriously, go to sleep."

"Alright, alright. Grumpy old man."

As he felt Alfred relax, and soon started listening to him lightly snore, he began to drift off himself. Yes, his last thought was, yes - a life of land with Alfred was exactly what he wanted and will always want. There was nothing like the peacefulness of their bed and Alfred curled around him.


End file.
